Crossroads - A Prologue

I haven’t blogged for over a year while collecting songs exploring themes of where crossroads in life take us. I thought I’d post this months ago, but what started as one playlist turned into six, with each of them exploring different aspects of life – including being loved and loving, death and dying, longing and letting go, and healing.

The passage of time has felt inescapable lately. I don’t know if it’s the onset of middle age, finally coming out of the fog of the pandemic, or being in better touch with my emotions – but sometimes, the feeling is almost like an aching for the past. Not that I want to go back because my life is pretty great right now. It’s more that I want to relive it and get a chance to see it unfold while knowing how things turn out. Sort of like the urge to rewatch a favorite show all the way through for a second or third time.

Albert Einstein once wrote to a friend, “The past, present, and future are only illusions, even if stubborn ones,” and that time and our place within it are relative. This notion is explored in a Scientific American article by theoretical physicist Paul Davies titled “Times Passage is Probably an Illusion.” It’s a great piece that talks about how the passage of time is subjective and that physicists have yet to agree on how things transition from many potential realities into a single actuality.

It’s funny that the " singularity " theory makes the theory of parallel universes, or the multiverse, even possible. There could be versions of us living entirely different lives of the many potential realities that could have played out. Where crossroads put us down just one of many paths because of a decision we or someone else might have made, or because an unexpected event changes the trajectory of where we were initially going. And these paths, I think, are most marked by the memories of people who move in and out of our lives — including the memories of tomorrow we’re making with those in the present.

My grandma, who recently passed away, gave me two great pieces of advice about life and those who share a path with us for only moments in time. The first piece of advice, given before cellphones and the internet existed, was to only fill out my address book using a pencil because people will never stay in the same place. The second piece of advice was that when people leave our lives, it’s often because we’ve learned all we can from them.

I don’t know if parallel universes exist or if time is truly an illusion, but I do know that in this specific time continuum, about half of my life is behind me (if I’m lucky). While it’s tempting, and maybe even a bit comforting, to sometimes replay previous seasons of our life — it can also make us stuck or lead us down an endless path of “what ifs” when our present situation isn’t everything we want it to be.

Some people say the best way to move forward is to forget the past and live in the present. But the past is too important just to forget. It’s what brought us to the moment we find ourselves today and the experiences that have made us who we are. When it comes to the passage of time, particularly when we feel lost or scared, it is knowing that wherever we are is right where we need to be. It might suck and be painful, or it might be incredibly joyous and filled with wonder — but whatever it is, the moment will only be temporary. It will become another memory until we have no more memories to make, at least in this time continuum.

“After all, we do not really observe the passage of time. What we actually observe is that later states of the world differ from earlier states that we still remember. The fact that we remember the past, rather than the future, is an observation not of the passage of time but of the asymmetry of time. Nothing other than a conscious observer registers the flow of time. A clock measures durations between events much as a measuring tape measures distances between places; it does not measure the “speed” with which one moment succeeds another. Therefore, it appears that the flow of time is subjective, not objective.” (An excerpt from the Scientific American piece mentioned earlier in this post.)

While the gray hair on my head and the wrinkles forming around my eyes indicate that time is passing, some moments in no specific linear fashion feel like yesterday, while others feel like an eternity ago. And others yet are just foggy distant recollections that barely rise to the surface.

So onto the playlists. I’m still editing all the other playlists I’ve created, which is needed because some have more than 60 songs. I’m also not sure of the exact order I’ll publish them, but I wanted to share the prologue of songs that didn’t fit into any one theme. This prologue explores these concepts as a whole about the passage of time, the memories we make, and the different paths we take.

You can listen and follow along below to learn why I’ve included these songs in the prologue, and if you don’t have a Spotify account, I’ve included a link to the YouTube version of each song in my notes.

Two Roads - Valerie June
This song was the inception of this entire series of playlists. There’s a haunting aching to the music that captures how decisions we or others make send us down one path vs. another — and even if we find contentment and happiness in where we end up, there’s almost always an inescapable wondering of what life might have been like if a different decision was made. If there was ever a song to make you wonder about the potential for parallel universes, I think the ethereal melody of this song opens a veil of wonderment about it.

As We Walk Into the Night - Amber Rubarth
Continuing on the theme of time and relativity, this song is about savoring core memories that create the fabric of our existence in relation to others. Even if Einstein’s belief that time is an illusion hasn’t been proven, memories of people are like time capsules. That’s why certain smells, places, and sounds can sometimes transport us back to a moment, making it feel as if no time hasn’t passed at all, or they give us an eerie deja vu feeling like we’ve already lived that experience. These memories, though, are tricky - “sometimes they keep us going, sometimes they hold us back.”

‘14: I Wish I Had Pictures - The Magnetic Fields
The lyrics of this song are self-explanatory of why it’s on this playlist. What I take from it, though, are not only how memories fade over time, but also how strange it is that people who are so incredibly important to us at different moments in our life will sometimes never meet each other. There are all these experiences and stories about who we are that they’ll never get to be a part of, nor us for theirs — including family you’ve known your whole life. It’s a beautiful song.

Every Mile - Layup
This song can transverse time in any direction — past, present, and future. It goes back to the notion that people, particularly our romantic partners, leave some of the strongest imprints on us as we pass through time. And that wherever we find ourselves in a given moment, whether we want to be there or not, is where we need to be for whatever comes next.

Berth - Gregory Alan Isakov
The notion of reliving our past and it leading to an endless cycle of “what ifs” is captured so wonderfully by this song. The haunting melody, the lyrics, and all of it. It’s sometimes hard to get out of those cycles, particularly when something in the present is causing distress. Romanticizing the past becomes an escape from focusing on what we need to address in the present.

Paths of Victory - Cat Power
This song is for those moments when we feel stuck or unsure how to move forward. It’s a good reminder that one day the fog will clear, and we’ll look back and realize just how far we’ve come, how much we’ve grown, and the healing we’ve done along the way if we’ve put in the work to do so. This song is a Bob Dylan cover. I love her voice and this arrangement because it brings a depth of evoking what hardships teach us.

I Remember Everything - John Prine
This is the last song John Prine ever recorded. He was one of the greats we lost to COVID. This song is so tender, heartbreaking, and hopeful all at the same time. As I mentioned earlier, memories are time capsules that hold moments — both good and bad. Things we could have maybe done differently, people and places we miss, and the small day-to-day moments that don’t always rise to the surface but sometimes do.

Low Expectations - Edwyn Collins
Edwyn Collins is a brilliant lyricist, and this song is no exception. Which makes it even sadder that he developed severe aphasia after suffering a massive stroke in 2005. This song hits on a new level knowing the unexpected turn his life would take, particularly for this playlist. It reminds me of those times when we find ourselves starting over or back in a place we didn’t want to be and knowing we need to move forward but lack an optimistic outlook. There’s a wonderful documentary about Edwyn’s journey back to language and music called The Possibilities Are Endless. It’s a wonderful piece of art in itself.

The Last Night - Lily Kershaw
“It can only take a few minutes to make and change your life …” This is another lovely song about the passage of time and past notions of who we would be and the people we once knew. I like how it captures the tender softness of emotions that memories sometimes spark.

Winter - Tori Amos
A playlist by me about traveling through time wouldn’t be complete without Tori Amos, my original musical love. The 30th anniversary of this album was celebrated this year, and it still hits home in those moments when we don’t love ourselves as much as we should or see the beauty in ourselves that others see. This song always transports me back to my teenage bedroom, painted in deep purple and black, and how I felt so insecure and not ready for all the changes that were happening so rapidly during that time.

Half Acre - Hem
While people definitely leave a mark on us, I think the places we’ve lived also do. I like this song because it feels like a personal journey of remembrance for all the emotions you’ve felt in those private moments of being with just yourself. And how we carry all of those places with us wherever we go because it’s an inextricable part of who we are.

The Million Things That Never Happened - Billy Bragg
I just love that this song reads in two ways — both as distant memories of people, places, and things that no longer seem real and of things that never transpired because we went down a different path. The violin in this is absolutely piercing in the same way that memories of what did or didn’t happen sometimes grab us and won’t let go.

Bookends Theme - Simon & Garfunkel
“Preserve your memories. They’re all that’s left you.” This song feels like one big sigh when you’ve gone down memory lane and feel nostalgia for past times. And also a gentle reminder to hold onto and make new memories in the present.

Core Memory - Distant Cowboy
This instrumental piece is a perfect complement to the previous two songs. Just close your eyes, focus your breath, and I’m sure a core memory will be unlocked.

Nightswimming - R.E.M.
This is another song that can transport me back in time to two core memories. The first is riding in the back of my parents’ van traveling dark prairie roads at night after spending holidays on the family farm, and the second is summer camping trips to Moon Lake in high school with my closest circle of friends. “The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago / Turned around backward so the windshield shows / Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.” It reminds me of holding on to memories when we’re afraid of the change that’s coming, even though great new memories are being made in that moment.

Lullaby for the Lost - Reid Jamieson
Another beautiful instrumental with a few soft vocals to serve as the perfect capstone song to this section of the playlist. It’s like a tender sending-off of memories so we can embrace what’s to come, even if we aren’t sure what direction we’re headed.

Only Time - Aaron Espe
This is such a tender song of wanting time to stand still, if only for a little while. Even if we can’t stop time, and the passage of it may very well be an illusion, this song is like sitting down to savor the small moments in life that will be gone before we know it. It reminds me of a photo of my grandfather that I took after his 80th birthday. He was silently sitting in a corner, tired but content in watching his children and grandchildren play in the living room he built with his dad. My grandpa was an excellent teacher about savoring the small moments in life and being thankful for them.

Of Love and Life - Caamp
This song needs to be sung around a campfire on a summer night. It requires the banjo, though, because it makes the song. It’s a great tune to follow the last one with the memory of my grandpa and the lessons our elders can teach us about life.

And It’s Still Alright - Nathaniel Rateliff
This song is packed with so much pain and hope at the same time. It’s a prelude to the death and dying playlist, but I also think the playlists I’m assembling on longing and letting go. It’s a song for the valleys that seem impossible to escape when we’re in them. It’s important to remember in those low points that we’re alright and things will get better, and even if we can’t see it at that moment, it’s exactly where we need to be.

Past in Present - Feist
A fantastic song to round out the crossroads prologue to this coming series of playlists. “So much past inside my present …” goes back to the notion that we shouldn’t forget our past but rather honor its place in making us who we are, the lessons we learn from it, and that it will always be a part of us. It’s our story, for better or worse.

The making of a scar

I've been quiet on this blog since rekindling it a few months ago. I’ve been working through a pretty difficult time from my past that I’ve never shared publicly and it’s been hard to find the right words to talk about.

Due to an unexpected COVID-19 quarantine by myself, I’ve recently had the needed space to finally bring the processing of what happened to a state of mind where I feel comfortable enough to share. It’s involved revisiting a time when the trauma of 3 colliding incidents all happened within the span of a year -- a heartbreak, the death of a close friend, and a sexual assault. I’ve never talked openly about the assault, partly because it’s taken me almost a year in therapy now to unravel the pieces and understand what happened was indeed sexual assault by every definition of the law. That the shame and guilt caused by the trauma was a natural reaction and created a chaotic snarl of emotions. It wrapped all the grief of that time into a muddled layer on top of my still unprocessed trauma from 9/11, which had happened only 4 years earlier.

During the processing of all this, “I stood looking over the damage, trying to remember the sweetness of life on Earth." This line is a quote from Station 11, which I watched between the moments of processing in quarantine. This phrase repeated throughout the series hit home on multiple levels with the storyline itself being about the fallout of a pandemic and the processing of a pre-pandemic trauma.

At times I've felt selfish to take this very inward journey of my own past trauma during a time when we are all hurting. I don’t think we get to choose when the work needs to happen though. The moments find us, and we can either lean in and embrace them or retreat from them. I chose to lean in because I’ve been retreating for far too long.

I say retreating because part of this work has involved gaining a better understanding of my attachment style. I’m someone who retreats for emotional protection and shuts myself off from others. It’s most commonly known as avoidant attachment, and in the book Fierce Intimacy by psychotherapist Terry Real, he further classifies my particular attachment style as one of being walled-off and moving toward shame on his relationship grid.

What I’ve learned is that attachment styles are formed during our childhood and can change over the course of our lives. The avoidant attachment style has roots in learning from an early age that we must self-soothe ourselves during times of emotional distress. While I'm also revisiting the events of my childhood that influenced this attachment style, those reflections are a blog post for another day. I only bring it up because I think it’s important to acknowledge that while our attachment style may develop during childhood, there are other significant events in our life that can impact it.

What sparked this particular journey was a discussion with my therapist about Indigenous teachings on calling our spirit home when it’s lost. This teaching kept revealing itself to me in different ways over the last few months, and I’ve learned enough to know now that when this happens we need to pay attention to it. Joy Harjo describes this process in her poem For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet. Here's an excerpt:

Don’t worry.
The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises, interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and those who will despise you because they despise themselves.

The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few years, a hundred, a thousand or even more.

Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the thieves of time.

Do not hold regrets.

When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed.

You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant.

Cut the ties you have to failure and shame.

Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction.

Ask for forgiveness.

Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor.

Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.

You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.

Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.

Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long.

My therapist isn’t Native, but understood the meaning of this teaching revealing itself to me and encouraged me to pursue the work in calling my spirit back. So I’ve been retracing the memories of that time through music and creating a playlist to safely release the emotions from then all the way until today to unlock what I’ve truly been feeling.

I mentioned in my last blog post that returning to music, poetry, and writing has been a big part of my therapy. Those artforms are helping me get back in touch with all the emotions I locked away in my walled-off retreat for the last 20 years. Lily Kershaw’s album Arcadia was the genesis of starting this process, and my Spotify top songs of 2021 are a clear indication of that.

I’ve also been revisiting some of my writing from this time in my life, including revising and unpublishing a few old blog posts now that I have a better understanding of myself and what happened. While some of the specific details of these memories still escape me, I know I have a much stronger clarity of truth.

I know that, because I had a new perspective looking at some old photos I found on the computer with the journaling I was reading through from this time. One photo in particular really got to me. It’s a picture of me standing by the shoreline of Puget Sound. I remember the day it was taken and how I felt so lost in darkness at the time despite my smiling face.

I think in many ways this playlist is a tender love letter through time to reach her 16 years ago by tracing “the making of a scar, from the end until the start.” This lyric from Lily Kershaw’s song Parallel Lives inspired both the playlist and the title of this blog post. I really like the metaphor, because a scar is a wound that has healed.

A special note to those who were closest to me during this time in my life and might be reading this, thank you. Your kindness and friendship kept me afloat during a time when I was adrift in darkness.

My new theme song

"Merry Happy" by Kate Nash
... Though you try to tell me that you never loved me
I know that you did
'Cause you said it and you wrote it down ...
... Yeah you make me merry make me very very happy
But you obviously, you didn't want to stick around ...
... So I learnt from you ...
... I can be alone, yeah
I can watch a sunset on my own ...

Dedicated to the two most brilliant of my brilliant traces, who I have yet to find words for.

"Past in Present"

Before I share my next three and most recent brilliant traces, I would like to share the lyrics of a song that hit me like a burst of cold water this morning as my train was pulling into Seattle.

The song is "Past in Present" by Feist. It struck me so hard because while my present is the happiest I have been in many years, I still have portions of my past that creep up on me when I'm not looking.

Even though I have moved forward from the heart break, portions of the last three brilliant traces are still present in my life - one who is still a friend, one who I can't escape the memory of, and one who still makes my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach when I think about him.

"Past in Present"
by Feist

The scarlet letter isn't black
Gotta know who's got your back
Because they're right in front of you
Because they're telling you the truth

So much present inside my present
Inside my present so...so much past
Inside my present inside my past
Inside my present
So, so

Feeling it from dark to bright
When a wrong becomes a right
When a mountain fills with light
It's a volcano, it's a volcano
It's a volcano, it's a volcano

So much present, inside my present
Inside my present
So, so much past

Inside my present, inside my present
Inside my present
So, so much past

Inside my present
Inside my present...
So, so much past

"Take the things you love . . ."

In following along with my flow of brilliant traces, here are some lyrics I think encapsulate what it means to love, lose love, and love again - hopefully without losing faith.

This is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
You try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

From: "On the Radio" by Regina Spektor

Candy causes murmurings of the heart

I apologize for my lack of actual blogging contact. I've been a bit busy with family, friends, work, and getting healthy (nothing serious, just a minor reaction to some medication.)

I do have a wonderful creative rambling floating around in my head about the state of relationships among us in the GenX/Millenial/Y/GenNext crowd that is is just itching to come out. However, I have promised myself that I will finish organizing my apartment tonight - so that will have to wait.

In the meantime, Iggy the iPod shuffled to a song today that spoke to me about asking ourselves the question why, I wanted to share my interpretation of the lyrics.

"Good Enough"
Hey your glass is empty
it's a hell of a long way home.
Why don't you let me take you?
It's no good to go alone.

I never would have opened up,
but you seemed so real to me.
After all the bullshit I've heard,
it's refreshing not to see.

I don't have to pretend,
she doesn't expect it from me.

So don't tell me I
haven't been good to you.
Don't tell me I
have never been there for you.
Just tell me why
nothing is good enough.

Hey little girl would you like some candy?
Your momma said that it's OK.
The door is open, come on outside.

No, I can't come out today.

It's not the wind that cracked your shoulder
and threw you to the ground.
Who's there that makes you so afraid?

You're shaken to the bone.

You know, I don't understand.
You deserve so much more than this.

So don't tell me why,
he's never been good to you.
Don't tell me why,
he's never been there for you.
And I'll tell you that why,
is simply is not good enough.

So just let me try,
and I will be good to you.
Just let me try,
and I will be there for you.

I'll show you why you're so much more than good enough ...

- From Sarah McLachlan's album Fumbling Toward Ecstasy

seattle SO sweet

My back was still aching today, and I was exhausted from the sun. However, it was all worth it for the the highlight of my summer.

"When there is nothing left to burn . . ."

I've been meaning to sit down and write about an insightful conversation I recently had on life and relationships among my generation - but wouldn't you know it - life keeps getting in the way.

So, until I have more time to sit down and write about that conversation in a way that will do it justice, I want to talk a little bit about music.

I've always been a connoisseur of music, which my insane CD collection can attest to. And for some reason lately, music has had an even larger presence in my life, something that is definitely most welcomed and a major reason I wanted to move back to Seattle. (After living in New York for seven years, I can definitely say that Seattle has a FAR better music scene.)

While some people find inspiration in nature, some in faith or religion, and others on the pages of books, I happen to find most of mine in music and lyrics.

I always used to think I was less intelligent and academic than a lot of my friends because of this. That was until I had an editor, who I greatly respected, once ask me if I was a book person or a music person. The answer rolled off my tongue without a bit of hesitation, and a bright light flicked on inside of my head.

While I consider the books I have read to be my friends who I like to keep around, I consider my music collection to be an assortment of spiritual advisers, philosophers, and comedians who keep me thinking, laughing, and dancing.

The reason I chose to write about this topic tonight is that on the way home from work I was struck by the lyrics and rhythm of a song by the band Stars. I discovered this band a few years ago, and they have a sound that would best be described as a lovechild between Death Cab for Cutie and Frente!. (If you don't know any of these bands, I am sorry for you and hope that you can discover their music in this vast universe we call Cyberspace.)

The title of the aforementioned song is "Your Ex-Lover is Dead." Now, despite what your knee-jerk reaction to that title might be, my reason for finding inspiration in it had less to do with my recent heartbreak and more to do with personal survival.

One week from yesterday will mark the six-year anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. I have yet to be able to write about my reflections of that day.

My mind is still processing why it is that a co-worker found me and helped me escape death by mere minutes. Why my life out of thousands of others was spared. Why our country's retaliation has become the forgotten war in Afghanistan. Why hundreds of thousands more have died unjustly in the name of "freedom" in Iraq. Why the American public has forgotten that Bush and Congress work for us, and that we have the right to fire dishonest employees. And why, despite all of this, our lives seem virtually unaffected on a daily basis.

So, perhaps "when there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire," to quote the scary old-man voice at the beginning of "Your Ex-Lover is Dead."

(For curious minds, there is a video available of the song on the Stars website.)

"I'm sensitive"

While drifting in and out of sleep during an afternoon nap the other day, Iggy the iPod shuffled to the song "I'm Sensitive," which is a favorite Jewel tune I hadn't heard in a years.

I can identify with many stanzas of the song, especially the chorus - "Please be careful with me, I'm sensitive and I would like to stay that way." But this time, one stanza in particular jumped out at me:

"I was thinking that it might do some good if we robbed all the cynics and took all their food. That way what they believe will have taken place, and we can give it to people who have some faith."

The words just kept running through my mind today, and I found it amazing how two simple sentences can apply to everything from White House scandals to jaded hearts to poverty to global warming.

Words are such wonderful, brilliant things when used to make thought provoking art.

Moving Forward

How odd is it that what is believed to be one of the most unluckiest of days of the year fell within the same week of what was supposed to be one of the luckiest days in a 100 years?

Luck or no luck, I'm moving forward and have made a fantastic mix to celebrate my feeling of freedom. Like all of the mixes I make, the songs have a general theme tying them together. What is different about this mix is that all of the songs are arranged by the lyrics that speak the most to me rather than the flow of music. It was a little experiment, and I have to say I'm quite happy with it.

This is also the first mix I've made for myself. All of my previous mixes were made for friends in need, saying hello or goodbye, and guys that eventually broke my heart. So, without further ado, here is to Moving Forward:

1. So Long - Guster
"Yes I'm blue, but from holding my breath, like I have from the start. I'm the villain and I should confess, I liked you better before."

2. Far Behind - Social Distortion
"Your narcissistic ways have gotten the best of you, so I'm leaving you to sink in all your glory. ... Get out of my way, I've got better things to do."

3. Domino - Van Morrison
"And if you never hear from me, that just means I would rather not."

4. Blacking Out the Friction - Death Cab for Cutie
"I think that it's brainless to assume that making changes to your window's view will give a new perspective."

5. Let Him Fly - Dixie Chicks
"It took a while to understand the beauty of just letting go. 'Cause it would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that. I'm gonna let him fly."

6. Go Ahead - Rilo Kiley
"If you want to hold onto the first girl that you meet, or if you want to settle down and plant roses at my feet, go ahead. ... If you want better things, then I want you to have them."

7. Fidelity - Regina Spektor
"And by protecting my heart truly I got lost in the sounds."

8. Ageless Beauty - Stars
"Cruelty makes its holes, but on the shoreline time will hold its promise."

9. North of Heaven - Edwyn Collins
"Things can only get better. What's around the corner, who can tell? I'll build a little place just north of heaven, I'm kinda tired of living south of hell."

10. The Resistance - Sam Roberts Band
"I was born a restless soul. I never did what I was told. That old fire rages on."

11. I Will Be Free - Nil Lara
"For many years I've been held inside this wishing well."

12. Breakdown - Jack Johnson
"You can't stop wishing if you don't let go of the things that you find and you lose and you know."

13. Free To Decide - The Cranberries
"And I'm free to decide, I'm free to decide."

14. Whatever It Is - Ben Lee
"So wake up and do it. Whatever it is, just do it."

15. Stand - REM
"Think about direction, wonder why you haven't before? Now stand in the place where you work. ... Think about the place where you live."

16. Hands - Jewel
"My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours they are my own. ... In the end only kindness matters."

17. Downhill From Here - The Frames
"So let go of the wheel, and forget how to steer. It's all downhill from here."

18. Someday - The Strokes
"Tables they turn sometimes."

19. She's Got Her Ticket - Tracy Chapman
"And she'll fly, fly fly ..."

20. Sunshine - Matt Costa
"Sha la la la la la la la"
(I have to admit that this last song was really only chosen because it makes me completely happy and giddy - mostly because I have a huge crush on Mr. Costa. But I rationalize this choice by the fact that the whole point of the mix is about moving away from darkness and into sunshine.)